


to tame a wolf

by sylleblossom (kemonomimi)



Series: tribes, strays, and ferals [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Animal Transformation, Cloud Strife Is So Done, Cloud Strife Needs a Hug, Developing Relationship, Dissidia-esque but Kingdom Hearts, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mentioned Characters and Relationships, Multi, Slow To Update, Smut, Strifehart, additional relationships to be added - Freeform, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemonomimi/pseuds/sylleblossom
Summary: feral wolf cloud finds himself injured and treated by a lion tribe in radiant garden, and he certainly isn't expecting the pride king to be so infuriatingly handsome enough to prompt him to rethink his lone wolf lifestyle.
Relationships: Cloud/Leon (Kingdom Hearts), Fenrir/Griever, Firion/Lighting (Cameo), Leon (Kingdom Hearts)/Squall Leonhart/Cloud Strife, Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: tribes, strays, and ferals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910845
Comments: 17
Kudos: 127





	1. irrepressible

One moment he is alone — he is always alone since he left the tribe, branding himself a feral, marking himself a lone wolf — but the next he is blinking away blurry, swimming colors and staring up at a high, barren ceiling of stone. His mind is swimming too much to focus on much else, until a head leans into view, long black hair draping over his face like a curtain.

“You’re awake!” The sheer giddiness in the voice of the woman makes him flinch, ears lying flat in protest. Too loud. It has been a long time since he has been around others. “I’ve got to let everyone know — you stay right there, mister!” She sounds like she is trying to be stern and failing at it, especially when Cloud cuts his unnaturally blue eyes in her direction. “You’re injured! Don’t even think about moving.”

Dark hair, brown eyes — and a thin tail with just the tiniest bit of floof at the end. Hmm.

 _Lions,_ he identifies after a moment. This is a lion home — a lion fortress. The stonework is proof enough that those who reside within its walls must carry weight in the tribe. 

When the hell did he wander so far that he ended up in lion territory? The question burns, the blazing pain through his skull cutting through like a knife. He sees flashes of the answer in shaky, glowing green. A cliff-side collapsing beneath his feet, a river with a current too strong for even a wolf as powerful as him to resist — and then, nothing but darkness. 

He is lucky he did not drown, but he can feel the pressure in his lungs as if he was still flailing uselessly in the water. Awareness of other aches and pains begin to register as the pain behind his eyes fades to just a phantom, lingering for the next moment he tries to recall memories too quickly or move rashly. A harsh scrape against his side, likely from being dashed against river rocks. The sharp pain beneath it warns of a broken rib or too, and the idea has him wincing. 

Stuck in the land of an unfamiliar tribe as a self-branded feral and only the promise of pain if he attempts to transform into his bestial form… it is not exactly an ideal situation for Cloud. There is always the possibility of the lions sending for the wolves to retrieve him, feral or not. They’d come too, surely upset at him for running away and refusing to rejoin them and desperate to take him back home. It is the last thing he wants, especially right now while he’s vulnerable.

Despite his awareness of the guaranteed pain of transformation, when he hears the slow, regal steps of an approaching lion, he transforms out of instinct. He can hear the cracking of his wrapped ribs and notices too late the sling around his arm, and once again all he sees is darkness.

—————☆

When his eyes flutter open again and Cloud breathes a painful intake of breath, he realizes he is not alone in the room anymore.

“That was stupid, wolf.” He cannot move his head yet to peer at the origin of the deep, almost soothing timbre berating him, so he just snarls instead. He hears a resounding snarl, but whomever is seated in the other corner of the room out of sight remains humanoid by the sound of it.

Were Cloud not still heaving from the immediate sharp pain his transformation wrought, he would have commended the sheer bravery of being in the same room as the hulking, tawny wolf littered with the marks of triumphant in tests of strength in the forest of Gaia’s Colosseum in their human form. 

“Are you planning on staying like that, or are you going to transform back and let the healers do their thing?” Cloud answers the question with another snarl. _Bite me._ He is answered with a snort, attitude unshaken. “Whatever.”

With strenuous effort Cloud rolls over, pressing his muzzle against the soft hay and cotton bedding to keep any grunts or howls reflecting his agony clamped tightly in his throat. After a moment of fuzzy vision, he finally takes in the view of the occupant on the other side of the room.

And it sure is a view.

The brunet cannot be much older than Cloud — maybe he is younger. It is hard to tell. He too is striped with countless proofs of strength, though not from the same forest. His hair is shaggy, caught somewhere in the middle between short and long, like he isn’t sure whether to grow it out or cut it. His impassive face’s smoothness is disrupted by a long scar against his nose. He is more handsome than any wolf Cloud’s ever met, that is for damn sure. The rounded ears and tuffed tail don’t even throw Cloud’s mild appreciation off-kilter; he’s never been a stickler for the idea of only appreciating his own kind.

“Quiet now, huh?” Cloud’s ears flatten instead of offering some sort of growl in response. If he had blinked, he would have missed the quick quirk at the corner of the lion’s lips and the amused flick of his tail. “Don’t be stubborn. Get it over with. Turn back, let the women patch you back up so they can properly heal you.” The blond does not have to be staring to know that pale blue eyes roll by tone of voice alone.

Somehow this conversation feels familiar, like in and out of the darkness and fog of pain he has heard the same words from different voices, all soft and coaxing in juxtaposition to the harsher, no-nonsense tone of the man seated across from him. 

Oddly enough, Cloud decides he prefers it, and listens to the advice.

It is not painless, but this time he does not pass out. The transformation is faster too, not nearly as quick as his usual change, of course, but his body seems to have adjusted to the endless stabs that shoot up his spine.

“Huh.” The lion standing guard almost sounds impressed. Cloud hisses out a breath through his teeth, twisting uselessly to find relief. His eyes are startled open when a hand brushes across his forehead and he is met with the face of the lion up close. When did he move?

There is another one of those smirks, though this one is lazy and slower as it spreads across the arch of his lips. “Pretty for a wolf. Even one plastered in sweat.” Cloud flashes his teeth, still unable to find the air to speak, but it just makes the lion flash teeth back at him, smug. “Might keep you, if you wanna stay.” It is not posed as a question so much as a finite possibility to consider in the future. 

Instead of dignifying him with a response, Cloud grunts out his own question. “Where am I?”

“Radiant Garden.” It takes Cloud a moment to clock just where the beast tribe city is located. The current pushed him all the way to forest of Worlds, huh? The crossroads continent, where tribes pushed from their lands and strays flock freely; he has heard about its existence. He was not sure which land-ejected tribe held control previously, but it is obvious to him now that responsibility falls on the shoulders of the lions.

As if answering his unspoken assessment, the lion corrects plainly, “Three of the cubs found you washed up on Destiny Island’s beach. Thought you were dead. Luckily one of them is a healer-in-training and pumped enough magic into you to keep you alive until we plucked you out of the sand.” The stormy gaze staring down into bright blue-green eyes looks almost thoughtful, his brows scrunching together. “Resilient. Most would have died from the trauma if they hadn’t already drowned.”

“Lucky me,” Cloud quips back and regrets it immediately with a growl of pain he smothers to just a rumble in his throat. 

“Guess so.” The lion’s brow quirks, clearly amused, but the lines of his face stay neutral. “Leon, Griever.” he says, and it takes Cloud a moment to process that it's the lion’s name and shifted identity.

“...Cloud, Fenrir.” He offers in a slightly less pained tone of voice. Leon hums, but before he can say whatever is on the tip of his tongue, a young teen comes barreling into the room. 

“Squall! Er— Leon! They said the wolf was awake and—” the spiky-haired lion cub paused with wide eyes, tail wagging eagerly behind him. “Oh! You really are awake! I’m Sora. I’m one of the ones who found you!” 

His excitement makes Cloud’s lips twitch, not immune to the charm of bumbling cubs. His chest aches a little; it’s one thing he misses about the Gaia Forest's Midgard's wolf tribe: watching over Marlene and Denzel. The first two cubs in years. 

He does not notice the fond softening of observant blue-grey eyes watching the shift in Cloud’s expression.

“Thanks,” he answers softly. _Credit where it’s due and all that_. Two more cubs appear behind him, much more well-mannered. Brilliant red and shiny silver peek over Sora’s shoulder — well in the case of the pale, blue-eyed fox stray it is more of a _towering-from-behind_ situation — and offer him slow, hesitant smiles. 

“He said ‘thanks,’ guys! See, you really did help save him Kairi!” The red-head tiger cub ducks her head with embarrassment, but she offers a brighter smile after a moment of modesty. “Rinoa, Quistis, and Selphie did all the hard work, though.”

“You kept me alive, apparently. Don’t sell yourself short.” Cloud finds himself able to speak more easily now, blunt but soft, considerate of impressionable cubs. 

With a nod of agreement, Squall adds, “Go get the healers. He’s promised to behave.” Cloud levies the brunet lion with a narrow-eyed look, but instead the lion leans down further into his space. “Aren’t intimidating when you’re broken like this.” And as a blasé afterthought he adds, “nor when you’re looking up at me through your lashes like that.” 

“Not interested,” Cloud breathes back, but his voice hitches on the very last syllable.

Something about the statement makes something hot coil deep in Cloud’s stomach; it’s been a long time since he’s felt something like that. It must show on his face somehow. The tips of his ears burn hot but they’re as silken blond as the rest of him, so he doubts that is what draws Squall in closer, bumping their noses together. “Yeah,” he breathes finally, eyes searching for something in Cloud’s. “Yeah. If you want to stay when this is all over, I’m keeping you.”

Cloud swallows hard, Adam's Apple bobbing. “ _Squall?_ ” He questions instead, changing the topic. 

The lion does not quite draw completely away, but it puts enough space between their faces in a way that does not make Cloud feel pinned. “Old name from the old forest, old city. Doesn’t sit right anymore.” He frowns, the lines around his lips implying it is a regular expression to flutter across the lion’s face.

Cloud is startled by the instinct that nearly pitches him forward to nose it away.

“Calling you by it.” At the annoyed look it garners him, Cloud mimics, “ _if you want to stay, I’m keeping you._ ”

Leon chuffs, but allows it. “Whatever. Fair enough.”

When three women scramble inside the medical den, Squall rises to his feet. “If he proves a problem, you know where to find me.” One of them, a tall blonde with glasses perched on the edge of her nose, raises a brow, but he ignores it. 

“Doing your kingly duties, hopefully.” The black-haired woman from before sets her fists on her waist, bossy. For a moment Cloud sees a brunette wolf with kind mulled-wine eyes giving him the same expression, but he shakes the vision away and is punished by a sting that reverberates through his skull.

King. The lion tribe of World Forest's Radiant Garden’s king. The information punches the breath out of him. He knows the city is home to a lot of strays taken in by a ruling tribe who relocated their home — it’s common knowledge in every forest. But he never imagined he would come face-to-face with said tribe, nor the city’s _king_. The lions’ _pride male_. 

The relaxed lull into which Cloud was not aware he was lured cracks with the knowledge gained, and as if the tall, gallant lion can sense it, he tosses him a look over his shoulder and addresses the injured wolf again. “I’ll be back when you’re not blissed out of your head by healing magic.” And with that he slinks down the stone corridor out of sight.

The smallest of the women giggles, a fist against her lips to try to smother it. “Think Squall’s smitten with a grouchy blond wolf.” The two accompanying women’s ears twitch with mirth. 

“Seems so!” The brunette seems torn between elation and jealousy, but she settles on the former with sparkling eyes and a bright smile. “All the more reason to get him patched up and on his feet quickly!” The three nod in agreement.

Cloud just groans, annoyed. “Don’t talk ‘bout me like I’m not here.”

That only earns him another round of amused noises, and he regrets speaking a single word to anyone, especially the too-attractive lion. The _King of Radiant Garden_.

He is not sure if the influx of trepidation is positive or negative, but the wolf has a feeling he is going to be in Radiant Garden for a long time.


	2. the offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cloud wakes after the healing session and leon is by his bedside for a much-needed chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm ready for a sappy romance between two quiet dudes who also happen to not be able to keep their hands off each other, how about you?
> 
> still getting the hang of writing squall. my little 'cloud has a tiny country twang/speech pattern when he isn't head-deep in zack land' headcanon is showing and i hope y'all enjoy it the way i do. hopefully more actual cameos inc soon, if all goes according to plan, but if not i have some offshoots in the works.

When he opens his eyes again, at least finally coherent, his body does not ache nearly as badly as it did before the one-day healing session. Above him is the familiar sight of the fortress’ stone ceiling. The difference is the bedding; no longer is it straw and cotton to soak up blood beneath him. Instead his fingers feel out soft cotton sheets and a mattress softer than any bed on which he has slept before now. Softer than the bed in Midgar he left behind when he fled and softer than any of the makeshift nests he made after he journeyed out on his own. The bed immediately reminds him of his current location — Radiant Garden of Worlds, in the den of the ruling tribe. 

Cloud starts to wiggle towards the edge, flight instincts driving him away from the comfort no matter how it tempts him to stay.

Someone in the corner of the room clears their throat.

Enhanced eyes snap to the figure and Cloud is only mildly surprised that it is once again the brunet seated in the corner, though this time he occupies a chair that looks as comfortable as the bed. 

The wolf takes in his surroundings with sharper eyes now, aware he cannot simply sprint towards the door like he initially planned. A fireplace, unlit, occupies one corner of the room. A desk, clean save for a neat pile of papers near the edge, occupies most of the other half of the room. Despite his initial evaluation of the comfort of the bedroom as something special, it almost seems utilitarian when the whole picture comes together — as if Cloud took a peek into another room, he would see similar commodities. 

Annoyance flares within him; only Rufus Shinra and his harem have such nice accommodations back in Midgar.

“Actually awake now?” 

Cloud answers with a curt nod.

“Good.” For a moment, silence falls between lone wolf and king lion, but it is not as awkward as the blond initially expected. “Gave them a scare,” the women, he presumes. “Responded to the magic more quickly than they expected, apparently. They had to re-break your arm to actually heal it properly in place.” A question dangles at the end of the statement, unspoken. Cloud decides not to answer it; why should he share his backstory with a man he just met? When he juts his jaw stubbornly and meets stormy eyes, they do not prod for answers.

“They thought once they rinsed the blood off you, your scent would give them a clue as to why you’re wandering around by yourself.” This time the brow that arches does demand answers, and Cloud averts his eyes lest they give anything away. “Wolves have some sort of hierarchy. Alphas, betas, omegas: I know that much. So what are you?”

A few ticks of silence later, Cloud shrugs a shoulder. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

The wolf’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because in your healing haze you kept begging not to be sent back. I want to know if a pack of hostile wolves are going to show up on my doorstep.” Cloud can feel the heat creep up his neck; what else did he blurt out in the midst of flying high on the effects of the magic aid he was given?

“No one’s going to come looking — not unless you tell them I’m here.” Returning his gaze to the ‘pride male,’ his eyes burn with challenge. Cloud would rather fight than have that happen. 

Leon leans back in his seat, balancing it on two legs and resting the tall back against the cold wall. “Well, they can’t really track your scent, can they? Not when you’ve hidden it so well. I don’t like to bring trouble to the city and its villages either. No plans on contacting your last pack.”

Again silence falls between the pair — really, it should be tense, but Cloud feels only patient eyes tracing his figure. 

“...You asked what I am. I’m nothin’. I’m everything. Alpha? Sure. Beta? Yeah, whatever. Omega? Guess so.” His bare feet drop to the floor as he properly sits on the side of the bed, facing Leon directly. “Don’t have a scent unless it’s triggered. Don’t need it, and not interested.”

Evidence of his strength litters his skin; slim golden stripes, reflective in the light pouring through a glass window. They practically scream alpha. But his soft looks, feathery hair and long lashes, allude to a past of sunshine-bright smiles and shy, gentle playfulness — ideal for an omega. Betas fall in between the two, just as important but usually unassuming. The way his lips turn down, taciturn, and he slips into easy silence, it would come as no surprise if another wolf assumed he held that position in the hierarchy.

“Nothing and everything,” Squall repeats, deep timbre contemplative. “...Suits you. But that isn’t why you’re alone, is it.” It is an observation, not a question, yet Cloud recognizes the request to elaborate.

“...What’s it like here?” Cloud counters instead.

Leon’s brows shoot upwards. “Strays wander in frequently. So do tribes whose forests have been ripped away from them. Rarely do I have to banish people from the forest and its surrounding villages.”

“Not what I meant,” Cloud interjects, brows furrowing, contrasting to brunet’s own. “Male to female ratio. Population. Mating rules.”

For a moment, the wolf almost thinks he stumped the lion by the way his features twist. “...Aren’t any rules. Ratio is even, give or take a few. Contrary to superstition, mixed mate unions don't always end up with unusual and impotent children. Met Kairi earlier, yeah? Her mom’s a tiger, dad’s a snow leopard.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Her sister’s a snow leopard. Brother is a tiger. Last brother is a panthera. Bet against fate with him, but they won.” It is not any of his business what kind of family Lightning and Firion make together, really. 

“Sora and Riku have mate-marked since they first met playing on Destiny Islands. Guess they both were too young to have the self-control not to bite each other. You won’t find one without the other.” Squall normally finds talking, especially extra exposition, exhausting, but he wants to shake away the look from Cloud’s eyes. He seems a touch too cautious. Alarmed. Maybe even scared.

“...He’s not yours?”

Squall does not have to inquire to know of whom Cloud is referring. “Nephew.” The long brown tail flicks in amusement when the blond’s shoulders relax a little. Concerned about cubs, huh, and whether or not Squall had any? Interesting and cute.

“So residents can just do what they want? No pressure?” Lips twist and brows furrow, staring Leon in the face to look for lies. “No worries about preserving packs?” 

By the expression on Leon’s face, he seems to realize the answers to these questions are Cloud’s way of elaborating why he ended up within the walls of Squall’s pride’s castle.

The lion snorts. “Whatever. Who cares? Most people here are just happy to be alive.” Then he adds, notes of understanding littering his tone, “You had some expectations to fulfill in your old pack, then? It must be small, then.”

“Splintered,” Cloud offers quietly after a sigh, looking down at the floor. It is not a comfortable topic. “Splintered and desperate.”

“But not desperate enough to take in strays from the surrounding area?” At Squall’s judgmental tone, Cloud snarls.

“Aren’t any. They left. Maybe some of them came to the villages here, dunno. Not much left of Gaia. A lot of wolves all came to the same place, but haven’t seen any other tribes around in a while.” Midgar is just a name at this point; most wolves reside on the edge of the ruins or closer to the mountain where Shinra’s lodge sits. Nibelheim, Banora, Corel — just a few of the old wolf villages in the forest of Gaia destroyed. Cloud’s heart aches when he thinks of Nibelheim.

In lieu of an apology, Squall’s voice mellows, soothing. “You don’t have to say any more. I get it.” Cloud feels the mattress dip beneath the weight of another, and feels the brush of a shoulder against his own. If it were anyone else, he would have snarled and recoiled. But he does not this time. He gets the distinct feeling if he shifts away, Leon will not follow.

For a moment, Cloud lets himself get swept away into the depths of his own thoughts. Tifa and Jesse and their gentle prodding, and the expectant eyes of the others. He thinks about Aerith and Zack and the loss of their first attempt; the devastation that rocked not only the Seventh Heaven sect, but also the reclusive, all-male and scorned First sect. Zack had been one of them, once upon a time.

So had Cloud.

He shakes away the thoughts when a broad hand with long fingers stroke over one of his ears; they are flat against his head, he realizes, expressing the emotion the neutral lines of his face do not. “You can stay, if you want to.” Leon reminds him. 

“And be kept,” Cloud replies dryly, recalling Squall’s words from before. The lion’s lips twitch before they smooth into a smirk that flashes just a little bit of teeth.

“Yeah. I would ‘like’ to keep you, but it isn’t a stipulation.” Cloud shivers, and it is not because of the empty fireplace. The exploratory touches along his ears, once consoling, have turned a little more intimate. The wolf finds himself torn between jerking away or giving up the fight to keep his long tail from thumping against the bed sheets.

“Not interested,” he mutters, ignoring the hitch in his own voice. “Not interested in being some charity case harem feral.” Why the idea bothers him stems from Shinra’s splintered pack-harem, but some unknown feeling also plucks at him. Before he knew Squall’s role...maybe he had felt a little special with intense eyes so insistently staring into his own while he lay broken in the infirmary. Now he feels like a toy for a kingly lion to bat between his paws.

“Harem?” He did not know Squall’s smirk could deepen any further, but it does. His ears are twitching, tail swishing. It lands on Cloud’s and stays there. “I don’t have one.”

His tail jerks away. “You’re the ‘pride male’ and the king of this...tribal patchwork city. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Not a fan of obligations either.” Leon replies easily, this time his tail just tracing along Cloud’s own. “Nor is it necessary. This city’s pride isn’t just lions and I never wanted one. Simple.” His head cocks to the side. “Jealous of an imaginary harem, Cloud?”

“No, Squall, I’m not.” He bares his teeth, but Squall’s ears are twitching with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah? You weren’t so quiet about it under the influence of magic.” Cloud can feel the way his cheeks burn and he nearly covers them in shame.

“I’m not responsible for anything I said when I was like that.”

“Of course not.” Leon’s expression has smoothed over, but mirth still sparkles in his eyes. “Liked the compliments though; maybe you’ll tell me again face-to-face some day, yeah? ‘ _Stupid, handsome lion — wouldn’t mind if he fucked me into the—_ ’”

Cloud snaps his teeth in warning and Leon lets the statement dangle, smug.

“I don’t know you. I’m not just going to—”

“I don’t know you, either,” the lion interjects. “But I want to.” Stormy eyes close and the closed, distant expression provides Cloud into some insight regarding the offer and the hidden, shaky confidence behind it. “So let me. We won’t mark each other unless it is a mutual decision; if it works, then sure. I’ll take a mate — just one blond wolf.” 

His eyes are still closed, fingertips now squeezing along the bridge of his nose, “If it doesn’t, you can still roam the streets freely and live here for the rest of your life if you want. Any pissy wolves show up and they can show themselves out. Let them get to know you — the people who live here. This so-called feral lone wolf. ‘Leon’s wolf.’ My wolf.” 

Silence falls between them. Cloud tries not to visibly squirm at the statement about one singular mate and the way it inexplicably makes his ears burn hotly. The possessiveness, the territorial inclinations: they make his heart leap into his throat. Moreover, he is surprised that there is a little twine of thoughts echoing the same sentiments in his own mind towards the other occupant of the bed.

“...Unless I decide I’m not ‘your wolf,’” Cloud reiterates after he steadies himself, making sure he is not agreeing to something he cannot reverse.

Leon nods, even if his expression does reflect that he desires the opposite conclusion. “Yeah. No strings attached. By then you’ll just be another well-known stray citizen in the city.” 

Cloud falls back against the mattress and stares up emptily, thoughts both elsewhere and nowhere. He feels like he’s free-falling and not resting against a bed, rocks in his stomach pulling him down like an anchor dropped in the waves.

Leon’s wolf, huh. He side-eyes the regal lion, taking in the features that had him so intrigued yesterday. Yeah. Yeah, he can try that. 

“My lion, then,” he finally answers. The answer earns him both eyes open again and fixated on him, tracing on his stretched-out form.

“Yeah, that’s the right of it.” Leon leans over him, brushing their noses together. Cloud’s noise tingles from the contact, remembering the same gesture from yesterday.

“I reckon I can give it a shot,” Cloud breathes, and his sharp inhale afterwards is a direct reaction to the soft, half-lidded expression that flits across Squall’s face.

“I’m determined to make it work,” he warns, thumb brushing smooth circles against Cloud’s chin.

“Better get started then,” the blond quips, his smirk as quick as a whip.

The jerk of his chin and lips against his own are only the beginning, yet the feeling is so steadying and warm that Cloud almost feels like he’s been here forever.


	3. too much too soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just as cloud starts to grow comfortable with the idea of his arrangement with squall, they are interrupted by a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been updating so much that my brain is going to turn to mush soon.
> 
> hope you guys keep enjoying this and i'm not slipping too badly from my characterization. it's rapidly becoming a passion project. dw, squall and cloud will get to the sexy stuff eventually, but i feel like i have to fill out this world a little bit first. i want more characters to pop in too, at least for really brief cameos. ff and kh just has so much potential. luckily i can fill out this universe with some side fics too soon, muwahaha.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> i keep updating the tags as i go along and soon this is going to be a hot mess but that's okay.
> 
>  **SPOILER FOR THIS CHAPTER:** in regard to a recently added tag — the remaining pack of midgar to which cloud belonged (avalanche, implied) and smaller packs in edge aren't homophobic so much as seeing heterosexual relationships as taking more precedence given the circumstances. obviously that isn't going over well with those who don't fall into that category. were things to change, acceptance of all relationships would return to normal, but i still consider it homophobia as things are now, let alone that they allowed this to happen.

When Cloud finally ventures from the comfort of the sheets of the bedroom after the shaky promise between the two men settled properly in his mind, it does not take a genius to identify Griever among the other lions prowling the vibrant, lush gardens. 

He is massive in comparison and coffee brown with umber combed through his mane and the very tip of his tail, like his hair. His eyes are bluer, brighter than the more muted shade of Leon’s; it is almost like they see more like this, but Cloud has learned in just the two days he has lived in Radiant Garden that Squall is keenly observant in general, let alone as a lion.

Now that pain does not haunt his steps, Cloud slips into Fenrir with the speed and grace of a well-practiced shifter. He catches blue eyes watching from across the way, but Griever makes no motion to move. By the lazy flick of his tail, Cloud makes the judgement that the lion is soaking in the sunlight.

Guess Squall is not immune to being a lazy cat after all.

For a moment, the flaxen and tawny wolf just walks the perimeter of the wide garden. He feels eyes watching his movements — some cautiously, others just curious. Fenrir is not happy to be observed full stop, but at least the inquisitive ones mask their interest. It is just a quiet jaunt; he is learning the paths through the flowers already well-trodden, reluctant to step on any of the flourishing flowers, feeling the rounded cobblestone roads beneath his paws, and circling the fountain centerpiece in the middle of it all. He keeps the instinct to jump into the cool water at bay.

When the heavy weight of another unexpectedly crashes into his side, the wolf freezes in place. An apology comes in the form of a tongue flicking against his muzzle, and he withdraws a little, uncomfortable. But a long look at the lion peering up at him relaxes him immediately. Sora, he realizes; the silver fox, long and broad, is close to follow, bottle-brush tail flicking with long-suffering, amusement-tinged annoyance. 

Still cubs, Fenrir judges, though their shifted forms betray his original approximations of their ages are incorrect. They are nearly old enough to shed the moniker. Riku would just barely sit beneath Fenrir’s muzzle, were he closer. 

Without much thought, he nips at the cub’s ear. Upon realizing it may be misconstrued, the large wolf’s ears tuck against his head, but it seems his anxiety is all for not. The cub simply rolls over and bats at him, recognizing the gesture, and Cloud feels the slightest headbutt of a fox against his side. 

It is dumb to be scared of treading the wrong lines; this is a city of the lost and the strays — of course a wolf’s brand of affection would be recognized without so much of a bat of an eye. 

Fenrir absently sniffs for the presence of another wolf, but the breeze is not strong enough to hint any of the tribes that reside outside of the bastion.

When he resumes his walk, the cub and kit follow. Riku lingers more at a distance than Sora, who nearly trips over Fenrir’s paws multiple times. It occurs to Cloud that he does not know their names, but he can’t ask like this anyway. The separation between animal and human only truly matters when instincts overtake the beast, human sensibilities forgotten, and Cloud cannot imagine anyone having to bark Sora or Riku’s bestial names to keep them under control.

When his walk concludes, Fenrir finds himself just a few feet from where Griever rests, the lion’s gaze tracing over the wolf from snout to tail. The two teenagers scamper off to resume their play, leaving Cloud to internally debate with his instincts as Fenrir to join Squall’s lion in the sun. The intensity of the blue stare ultimately sways him, and the bright wolf slinks into the grass besides him, crossing his paws and resting his jaw on top. 

A minute shift brings brunet fur against blond, thin tail resting over-top of the bushier wolf tail. Surprise makes him jolt when a sandpaper tongue swipes between his ears, and a sharp look in Griever’s direction just earns him a tip of the head. He feels like he is the center of amusement right now.

“Squall, Squall, Squally!” The voice disrupts the moment of peace and immediately raises Cloud’s hackles and sends him to his haunches, fur bristling. 

A petite, short-haired woman slides to a stop in front of Griever, then gaps at the wolf that had been lying beside him moments before her interruption. “Cloud?! What are you doing here?!” 

He snarls, immediately on guard. Yuffie. He should have known better than to throw in his lot with Radiant Garden. He is caught and cornered. It is never so easy, he is better off on his own —

“Hey, hey!” Yuffie frantically waves her arms in front of her, trying to appease Fenrir’s immediate shift in mood. “Don’t get gloomy, okay? Grumpy, broody old man.” He levels her with a flat look, mako-stained eyes unimpressed. “Hey, remember I left too, okay? I’m not going to go running back to Midgar and scream that you’re here from the rooftops. I’d get stuck there again.” 

One long stare later and Cloud’s fur flattens, appeased for now. Yuffie does have a lot on the line too, regarding the old packs. He just...did not expect to run into a familiar face. Not here, and not now.

It is then that Fenrir is made aware that Griever sat up when he did too, rising to his haunches. Defensive. _Mate,_ Fenrir whispers, but Cloud shuts down that line of thinking. Only half-way so and nothing more, not right now; maybe not ever. This is not the time to war internally with himself.

Yuffie’s cheeks puff and she grins, glancing between the two. “Ooh, I get it. Of course the two most broody men I’ve ever met would find each other. What a world!” Cloud warns her with a sharp look to keep her mouth shut, but Yuffie has never been an omega to cower. Besides, Cloud is not abusing using his talents to make her shut up anyway. “But really, why are you here?” She keeps pressing the issue like she expects Cloud to transform and spill his guts to her, but it becomes quickly apparent that he has no intentions to do so.

“Got tired of that silver-haired bastard chasing your every step? Annoyed at the constant insistence of the Turks to bow to that brat Shinra?” Cloud’s features remain impassive, but he does not like the feeling of pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of his past being forcefully shifted into place with a listening audience of more than just Leon. “Or did everyone just get too insistent?” 

Cloud pauses mid lowering to the grass, poised to pounce and end her tirade, to regard Yuffie carefully. She knows, does she not? She experienced it first hand, what it is like to feel the weight of choosing a mate, urged to help repopulate. 

Her grin, tinging with ruefulness, reminds him that she is sharper than how she portrays herself to be behind her eager, immature personality. “I get it. Vinny and I — we had each other’s backs, you know? But not like that. Neither of us wanted that. But everyone else seemed to want that anyway, right?” She shakes her head, messy short hair nearly catching on her ears. “He still misses what’s-her-face. And me…”

Her grin turns impish, eyes crinkling around the corners. “Sorry, Cloud, you’re out of luck! I don’t want pups — there’s enough to look after without having to add my own to the mix! Besides, I like girls anyway,” she admits shamelessly. “Not many to pick from back in Midgar anymore. They’re ‘too valuable to mate with other girls’ right now. Nothing left of Wutai, either. I saw myself out!” She gestures at the closeness between Fenrir and Griever. “Always knew you understood.”

Cloud chuffs, unable to correct her considering the agreement between himself and Squall and the interests he always held, but he settles completely back into the grass, soothed. Yeah, Yuffie will not go running to the old pack. She is making that notion pretty clear and simple.

“A-n-y-way,” she seems to remember she has a missive to pass along to Griever, who is still standing over Fenrir like he is bracing for a fight. “Squally,” Cloud gets the feeling she’s ignoring his desire to be called ‘Leon’ on purpose, “there’s a few new people who wandered into Traverse Town! One’s a dragon, can you believe that?! And another is a pegasus! I think the third one is a phoenix. Dunno, can’t really tell just by looking at him. I guess their forest’s tribes are totally different — divided by region or something instead of grouping together by beast. All three of them are mated to each other, the dragon is suuuuper territorial right now, but I think they’re going to head this way eventually; they said they’re used to city life.”

The lion nods sagely. Newcomers, all right. Not exactly normal tribes like bears and snakes, but they can work with that — dragons and shit? Sure, why not. 

“That’s okay? One of them wanted me to ask so they don’t just show up and scare everyone. Real diplomatic, that one.” She snorts. Fancy pretty boy. His group, no matter how foreign they seem, will fit right in with the likes of Squall and Cloud roaming around. 

“That’s fine.” Leon shifts to answer the question, but he is still seated beside Cloud, an arm draped over the large wolf. His fingers rub at a silken ear, further luring Fenrir into a sense of peace.

It should bother Cloud how easily he melts under Leon’s touch, but he cannot muster up the effort to care. The lion feels so safe. A break in the squall, Cloud thinks with a twitch of his tail. Irony is funny.

“‘Kay, I’ll pass on the word. Hey Squall?” 

“It’s Leon.”

“Take care of Cloud, okay? Or I’ll beat you up!” The tiny, light-on-her-feet woman pantomimes a bout of fisticuffs, her fists flashing and head ducking to avoid imaginary return blows. 

The smile that only briefly crosses Squall’s face is a mixture of annoyance and bemusement. “As if I would do anything other than that.”

Cloud is glad he is hidden inside Fenrir right now or he might not have taken the embarrassment quite as gracefully. As it is, he still growls, annoyed and embarrassed. Do not talk about him like he is not there, dammit.

“Yeah, yeah, Cloudy, I get it; leave you and your lion alone and scamper off again. But I’ll be back! Don’t think that you’ve escaped the Great Ninja Yuffie!” With a flourishing back flip to the top of the stone wall and then over it, the surprise guest disappears.

“You okay?” The question is hidden in a soft puff of breath against his ear, too low for anyone else to hear it. With slow reluctance, Cloud nods.

“Whatever.” Fingers weave through his fur until, embarrassingly enough, the scraggly wolf tail thumps in the grass. Leon is smug, lips curling, but he keeps any remarks to himself until the silence between them falls back to a comfortable lull.

“You don’t have to talk about it all to me until you’re ready.” Fenrir lifts his head. “Why you struck out on your own,” Squall continues, “Why Yuffie scared the hell out of you. Who or what you’re running from. Doesn’t change anything.” He stares down at the wolf, unblinkingly and concludes, “Still want to keep you and still going to keep trying to convince you that you should stay.” Gentle, lingering fingers pause their scratching through his fur to flick an ear. 

For now, that is enough for Cloud to rest his head in the soft grass again, storing away his worries for another day.


	4. rejuvenation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everyone under squall's jurisdiction is pride, and pride mates are not neglected; cloud slowly absorbs the concept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to trim the tags since i'm sure the series itself will have a cvs-receipt long list of tags, so hopefully that helps clarify some things. 
> 
> also, note the update in rating. our boys get a bit steamy, but this is only the beginning.
> 
> thank you all for the increasing support and kudos! they keep me going. my life right now is less than ideal, but channeling some of that energy into trying to make something people can enjoy is cathartic; thank you for enabling me.

Fenrir had endured quite a bit throughout the afternoon, so Cloud is ready to return indoors when the sun starts to set. There is the question of obtaining dinner; the smells swirling around the city and past the stone walls of the castle’s yard have his mouth watering. Surely somewhere in the city there is a stall to purchase a warm bowl of stew or the like. Cloud does not have much gil, but he never had a pocket-load back in Midgar anyway; he earned his meals through honest work, no matter how tedious the chore. 

“Not the currency we use here.” He had not heard Leon’s approach through the lush grass. Cloud self-consciously tucks the coins back into his pocket, shrugging. “Can exchange it, if you like. Scrooge might give you a good rate for them because they’re different from most of the other coins that have come through the forest.”

A warm ceramic plate is placed in Cloud’s lap, thick cuts of meat and cultivated, steamed vegetables nearly overflowing, and the conversation about money is abandoned. He must be gaping; Leon’s lips twitch into that lackadaisical smirk again, smug, as he settles beside Cloud. “This whole forest is the pride, Cloud; we don’t let the pride go hungry. Don’t overthink it and eat up.” It is almost as though he can see the cogwheels spinning in the blond’s head. Leon’s emotions are mixed; he preens that he can provide such a meal for his ma— future _mate,_ finds it adorable that Cloud is so gobsmacked over how well Worlds Forest provides for inhabitants, but a part of him aches upon realizing that this might have been the most substantial meal the wolf has been able to enjoy in a long time.

Cloud forgoes table manners to scarf it down. The vegetables are down his gullet before he can even register the hot trail swallowing them left behind. He disregards the iron-forged fork and uses his fingers to feed himself the meat, trying to lap at any juice that dribbles down his chin.

He is distracted from his rapidly-emptying plate of food when a thumb touches his chin. He pauses, mako eyes curious as Leon leans forward. His approach is slow to give the wolf enough time to retreat, but when he does not, the lion takes the opportunity to lick away any of the splatter Cloud cannot reach. “If I knew you were going to be that messy, I would have just fed it to you myself,” he grumbles, not quite a complaint but not quite a tease either. 

Cloud swallows hard, unable to deny the way the soft brush of tongue against skin makes his lashes droop a little. 

Encouraged by the reaction, Leon licks a soft trail to chapped full lips, sucking the taste of the marinating spices off the skin of his wolf. Thrill races through his veins akin to that of Griever cornering prey, though the wolf is hardly such. The display of vulnerability serves as a lure, tempting until he gives into the urge to press lips against lips, his head tilting until they slot together just right. For a moment they are both still, like a dark sky of clouds and the smell of petrichor and the anticipation of a storm looming overhead. Then, a tentative press back, a slow, slick tongue against the corner of Leon’s lips, slowly chasing down the same taste of the meat, and the rain begins its descent.

Both pairs of lips part, learning how to breathe together and the taste of one another beneath the fire-cooked meat. It is not a frenzied dance but a slow waltz, both careful not to step on one another’s toes as they learn the motions. As searing as it is between the two of them as the start of their ‘something,’ it is not a lewd kiss. It is exploratory and almost chaste, if not for the soft sounds rumbling in both men’s chests. 

“Surreal,” Cloud murmurs when they part, glancing down at the remnants of food left from his personal feast. 

“The food, or the kiss?” Squall’s features are blank, matching Cloud’s own as he collects himself.

“Both, I guess.”

“Certainly worse compliments.” A tufted tail flicks.

“Food’s really just...like this here?”

It takes Leon a moment to answer, gaze drifting towards the first stars that dot the twilight sky. “It comes with a price.” His eyes shift to Cloud’s ears, forward and attentive, and he snorts. Puppy dog. “The outskirts of the surrounding villages — Twilight Town, Radiant Garden, Destiny Islands, Traverse Town, Daybreak Town, Land of Departure, Scala ad Caelum — are plentiful, sure. True animals to hunt and plenty of consumable vegetation. Most have taken to cultivating their own, but the original seeds grew in the forest.” He pauses, contemplative. “Maybe it’s better if you see for yourself.” The lion rises to his feet and almost absently offers out his hand. Cloud is already halfway standing before it occurs to him to take it. It’s a gesture rather than a necessity and they both know that, but right now their whole agreement’s cornerstones are constructed from gestures.

—————☆

It does not take long for Leon to locate a spot to show Cloud what feeds the forest. 

Across the moonlit floor skitters shadowy creatures, eyes glowing brighter than fireflies but similar in color. One straggler is unceremoniously stomped beneath the lion’s boot, darkness dissipating around black leather and shimmering green sinking into the ground. The sparkling, weaving aftermath is all too familiar; creatures twisted by the malformed, abused destroyed landscapes of Gaia emit the same glow when they perish but never has Cloud witnessed the pulse of life disappear into the earth.

“Huh.”

Leon hums and waits, watching Cloud as his brows draw together.

“They’re clearly malevolent, but they feed the soil?” He does not comment on the scattered, star-shaped bits of currency around Squall’s shoes as he bends to pick it up. Currency must flow easily through the villages if it is that easy to obtain.

“There’s a theory that they’re the souls of the lost and after they’re freed from the darkness that binds them, they repay the debt.” Squall holds up a gleaming feather left alongside the odd coins. Some sort of alchemical catalyst, Cloud muses, momentarily distracted by the shine.

“Do you believe that?” The wolf asks finally, shoving his own hands into his pockets.

“Don’t know what I believe. Doesn’t matter anyway; all I care about is the results.” Squall pockets the munny and the feather nonchalantly. “We call them ‘Heartless.’ They’re not living and don’t leave behind any organs when they die, so I guess it fits. Not sure who coined the term, but it sticks.”

“Can’t imagine they just stick to the forest.”

Leon is quiet for a moment, eyes stormy. “No. Sometimes they try to attack the villages or the city itself. These little ones are easy enough to handle, but there are much bigger ones. Higher risk, higher reward. Usually hunting parties try to seek them out before they find us.”

“Lose people?”

The question brings Squall back to himself, eyes on Cloud. His lip quirks faintly. “Rarely. We take care of our own, remember?” The brunet’s eyes trace the faint lines along Cloud’s arms -- proof of his mettle from the fighting pits of Midgar. “I’ll take you next time I lead a party myself.”

Cloud nods, finding the offer agreeable. Under Squall’s scrutiny Cloud’s own gaze traces over his faint marks too. “Where did you earn your stripes?”

“It’s called Olympus Coliseum — not close enough to be considered one of our settlements, but only a few days’ journey. There’s some other villages close to it, too, but we give each other space. Olympus is more of the middle ground between all of the clusters of cities.”

“Radiant Garden is the largest one, yeah?”

“It is.” Warm pride colors Leon’s voice.

A ghost of a smile flutters across Cloud’s visage. He has only been in the city a day and though Yuffie’s sudden appearance did startle him, somehow it feels safe and secure. He tries to ignore the inkling that the presence of a certain lion is shaping his opinion and slowly convincing him into the idea of settling down and abandoning his days of self-inflicted wandering before he even really explores the city and its villages.

“Time to head back. Rinoa pesters me enough for wandering off without telling anyone — whatever; don’t need them to be dramatic and send out a search party, though.” Eyes rolling, Squall turns on his heel, back down the trail. 

Cloud is not sure why he does it, but before he can stop himself a hand pulls itself from the warmth of his pockets and long fingers curl around one of Squall’s belt loops. The lion only pauses for a moment, glancing over his shoulder with arched brows and a faint smirk. Cloud just shrugs.

Neither comment as shoulders brush against one another’s during their walk back to the stone compound.

—————☆

“Is this room mine?” Cloud peeks back into the familiar room, eyes darting from the desk, to the fireplace, to the bed.

“It’s mine.” They changed the sheets before they tucked Cloud into the bed after his healing session to keep him from feeling smothered. Squall was in the room when he awoke, so his scent did not register as something baked into the room itself.

“Oh.” Cloud immediately jerks his head back, but Squall’s hand lands on his shoulder. For a moment they simply stare at one another. The lion has that same look in his eye — the intense gaze usually followed by the utterance of his desire to keep Cloud. 

As a _mate_ , the wolf knows now. 

“Stay. In here, with me.” Though the hand on his shoulder squeezes, Cloud can easily shake it away. But he does not. Instead he nods, just a small jerk of his head, and swallows visibly.

This time he cannot find the familiar phrase expressing his disinterest floating through his mind.

With one last hard squeeze, the lion strides proudly into his own domain. The wolf follows, albeit more slowly, taking in the features of the room with sharper scrutiny. After previously peering into the open rooms they passed in the hallway, he knows it mirrors them after all. Even as the King of the pride, Squall places himself among his people.

Comfort floods the blond when the realization cements itself.

They silently ditch their boots and gloves on opposite sides of the bed as if the pair has done it a thousand times together. It is almost serene, but there is something bubbling beneath the surface. It slides across Cloud’s spine like a Thundara spell. Squall must feel it too, because when the blond turns, so does the lion. The silence between them lasts only for a moment before there is a hand fisted in Cloud’s woven vest and he finds himself against the sheets with the warmth of a body looming over him. 

His brain barely registers that his own hands are pressing Squall down, closer and closer still, their lips locking together to smother the spark that pops between them and threatens to grow into a wildfire.

When they part to breathe, the view of a thin spider web of saliva lights ignites Cloud’s cheeks with the faintest glow of pink. 

Squall kisses both of the hot patches before he presses his face against the corded column of Cloud’s throat, lips and teeth punching the breath out of Cloud’s lungs. Fingers curl in dark hair to keep him there as the wolf arches into the possessive, fleeting marks. Given the growl against his neck, he knows his silent encouragements are both acknowledged and appreciated.

Cloud feels one of the three tiny threads within him pulse and stretch; it would be all too easy to just let it wrap around him, to bury Squall in his sweetest scent, to writhe and play until the lion truly pounces, but he resists the allure. Not now. Now is not the time to showcase his abnormalities.

“Want you,” the lion admits against his neck, lips almost ticklish as his warm breath lingers over the flush rapidly climbing Cloud’s neck, painting it with color to juxtapose the blossoming purple and red from Squall’s kisses. He feels the flutter of lashes as eyes close, the proximity of Squall’s face against his neck intoxicating. “Too soon and foreign to me. Never wanted someone so intensely so fast before now.”

When Cloud swallows hard and the lips that chase the movement of his throat make him shiver. “Yeah. I get it.” 

They communicate nonverbally, Leon’s brow arching and Cloud making the final decision to start tugging at leather belts to get to the zipper of his pants. Way too many leather belts. 

Squall has a much easier time of freeing Cloud’s hard cock from his baggy, oversized pants, flashing him a sharp grin when the wolf’s fingers falter as he tugs away the last bit of encircling leather. Cloud retaliates with a harsh press of his palm against Squall’s tight pants and that chases the expression away with a hiss. A smug Cloud fishes the pre-cum slick erection free from the black leather.

“Oil,” Squall says with a jerk of his head towards the nearby carved nightstand.

“Keeping oil by your bed, harem-less lion?” Cloud quips.

“Shut up,” Leon counters, and Cloud concedes him the verbal victory because the cool liquid from the small vial dripping down their hands and down their cocks slaps the wit right out of him.

The slide of wet skin against skin and the sultry friction makes the wolf throw his head back against the pillows and moan. It is a messy affair, his belly coated just as much as his cock, but the pressure of Squall’s fist in which to thrust and the drag of their shafts against one another has him in a heady haze. The feeling must be mutual because the lion’s hips snap without a defined rhythm, tail lashing behind him like a whip. 

Neither of them last long; how can they when Cloud keens so prettily when Leon sinks his teeth into a large wolf ear to compensate for the agreement to not permanently mark him as _mate?_ Cloud’s whole world lights up, blinding, and all he knows in the moment is Squall. SquallSquallSquall. 

As the curtain closes on the moment, the lion rests his forehead against his wolf’s and they simply let it all sink in as they breathe together. They ride the high and slide down the slow descent together. When they finally move it is simultaneous, assessing the damage left behind by their sensual foray.

“You made a mess, wolf.”

“‘I’ made the mess?” Cloud snorts, jerking chocolate-brown hair once before he finally pries that hand free. 

“Yeah, you.” As flat as the retort is, Squall’s eyes are practically twinkling with mischief and he nudges their noses together in a familiar gesture. “I’ll help you clean up, though. Not sleeping like this.”

With a roll of his unnaturally-colored eyes, Cloud huffs and the two set about the work of cleaning up after themselves with nearly practiced grace. ‘This’ between them is new, but how rapidly it is clicking into place should be alarming. 

But it is not.

Neither is how comfortable it is to lay against Squall’s broad chest and tuck soft blond spikes and ears against the underside of his chin. 

Yeah, maybe Cloud could get used to this. Maybe he already is.

He will contemplate that tomorrow when his brain is not cushioned in cotton from the lingering effects of mutual pleasure.


	5. life in the city

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cloud learns a little and has an important epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no sexy stuff this chapter, but our boys will have some fun together next chapter, i promise. this was one of those 'hard to write but necessary to write' chapters so i'm sorry it took so long. i'm also working on a side fic for this verse and another project under my other pseud fortemps, but this fic has really sank its claws into me. i have a vague idea about where this is going and its eventual end, but there's definitely a few more chapters to go and a lot of side fics or epilogues, so hopefully you all enjoy the ride!
> 
> thank you so much for the kudos and comments; y'all keep me going.

The morning meal still sizzles on the clay; two thick slabs of bacon and two cooked eggs make Cloud salivate, but this time he eats with the fork instead of scarfing it down with his bare hands like a literal wolf starved. The amusement in Leon’s glance does not go unnoticed, but Cloud ignores him in favor of swallowing down every last bit while it is still hot. 

Decorum does not last long, however; he licks the grease from the plate.

“Starvling,” Leon rumbles, pushing a heavy mug smelling of roasted coffee beans across the stone table to help Cloud wash down his meal. The bitter drink burns the roof of his mouth, but the blond wolf does not mind as the taste settles on the back of his tongue. It has been far too long since he had a mug of coffee. Before he left the pack, they had already begun to ration the beans for night patrols.

“Whatever,” returns Cloud, turning Squall’s favored phrase against him. The lion hums, but the flick of his tail eludes to approval and amusement.

The lion eats his meal in silence while Cloud sips his drink, hands cupping the warm ceramic. The stone walls are growing cold with the first signs of the winter breezes, ruminating in the wide, high-ceiling open rooms. The chill is not enough to warrant a coat — not yet — but Cloud knows the need for one encroaches in the weeks ahead. Not that Cloud will require one; he and Fenrir both remember youth spent wandering the heights of Mount Nibel, snowflakes melting in long fur and pale skin alike. 

Too bad the mountain is nothing more than a phantom, now. 

He is pulled from his thoughts when cool eyes settle on him patiently, waiting for his attention. Cloud cocks his head, ready to listen.

“Explore the city if you want — or don’t, and laze around here; I’m busy today.” Squall places his cutlery in the center of his plate while he speaks, an iron-forged fork crossed over the serrated knife.

“‘m gonna get in your way?” One of Cloud’s brows arch, but he is not offended in the slightest. 

The heavy-lidded look he receives in return is worth the quip; it seems he is not the only one of the duo who woke up to flashes of shared pleasure motivating him to slip out from beneath the cool sheets. “Yes.”

Shaggy tail wagging with amusement, Cloud’s lips curve into a teeny, toothy smile his shoulders shrug. “I guess I can start wandering around then — learn the lay of the land.”

“Rumors have already made it past the gates,” Squall informs him flatly, his intense focus fading into nonchalance. “Make use of it.” As an afterthought he adds, “Or don’t; it’ll be harder to live here if you don’t mingle a little. It’s unfortunately necessary.”  
With another shrug, Cloud rises to his feet. “Not the type to sit idle; getting my name out there as a mercenary can’t hurt.” The advice echoes in his ears, remembering the phrase originally spoken by a warm brunette with her hands on her hips. 

He is not in the forest of Gaia any longer, but it will haunt him forever, will it not?

He interprets Leon’s nod of one of both approval and a gesture of well-wishes as Cloud and Squall part their separate ways for the day — the lion back into the belly of the castle and the blond out into the open air courtyard.

—————☆

“There’s Cloud!” Sora squeaks from within a patch of lush, overgrown grass, but Riku does not seem interested in leaving his post atop the smaller brunet’s chest. A nose against his own turns blue eyes back to teal.

“You don’t have to haunt his every step, Sora; he’ll get tired of it eventually.” Riku’s long, white-tipped silver tail sways along with the grass, arms folded comfortably to keep the lion cub pinned down.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to move,” Sora retorts, but there’s a flash of pink tongue, childish and playful enough that Riku boops their foreheads together in retaliation. 

“I won’t deny that.” The cool rush of air across the courtyard does not bother the silver fox, but his heat keeps Sora from shivering at the initial brush. It is not from the chill — it is anticipation that glows in the cub’s eyes, his eagerness for the light snowfall shining through though the first flakes are full moon cycle away from dotting cobblestone roads.

Sora’s sheerly adorable reaction to the looming winter earns him a soft peck on the lips, Riku’s features softening. “In the spring you’ll stop being a cub,” the fox teases. Though the moniker sticks to them both stubbornly, technically Riku no longer fits the criteria.

“I’ll always be a cub to Leon and the others.” Though Sora beams as brightly as the sun, the little rueful undertone does not escape his mate’s notice. Riku presses the side of his face against Sora’s, smile curving. 

“We all will. But, that won’t stop us from being able to share quarters.” Sora’s cheeks go red but his tail thumps against the earth with another wave of excitement. “If you want to, of course.” Even confident Riku has his moments of uncertainty, but this time the remark is in jest. Sora has been trying to wiggle his way into securing a room together since they were still tiny and freshly bitten. Mates should share, he would argue, and earn a swat of a paw against his ears; mates they may be but Ellone and Leon always sought to maintain some semblance of youthful innocence. There will be plenty of time to live as adults together.

“Of course I want to!” Sora’s ardent admittance makes Riku laugh, ears perking. Hook, line, and sinker; Riku will have the lion’s attention for the rest of the afternoon undisturbed now, just as planned.

“Keep proving it to me, then!”

—————☆

Lightning and Firion are the most memorable couple he meets, partially thanks to the guiding bump of a familiar petite tiger’s head against the back of his leg. They are pleasant enough; Firion amicable without being overly-chatty, and Lightning reserved, authoritative, and matronly beneath her own numerous warrior stripes that hint at a past of victories and losses. 

When Firion wanders off to a nearby shop with Kairi in tow, it is Lightning that reminds Cloud what reputation precedes him. “ _Leon’s wolf_ , huh.” Her gaze is critical, tone flat, but the blond is unbothered. If anything, the familiarity of another introverted, somewhat taciturn disposition eases nerves he is unaware of carrying. “You’re not what I expected.” A beat or two of silence drops between them and Cloud feels an odd bristling rising from the pit of his stomach before she continues, “I should have, though; Leon isn’t the type to settle for anything short of what he wants. Or who he wants.” 

A transformed Kairi waves at her mother from the end of the row, her mother nodding in recognition, before she finishes her assessment with a cool, “Don’t let him work too much on restoring that old stronghold — he’s too tolerable of a figurehead to fall into an early grave.” The clap on Cloud’s shoulder does not phase him, though the small smile the pink-haired woman spares him does just a little.

Acceptance, he realizes in a flutter of warmth. It is a feeling he once craved and it became nothing but a ghost to him. But here, in the forest of Worlds, Cloud is given a second chance.

“He’s a work in progress,” Cloud replies easily, and Lightning nods, smile stretching just a little wider, before she wanders off after her mate and red-headed daughter.

Restoring the castle, huh. So that is what Squall’s doing. It certainly stands as a bastion of strength for the city; it could probably house the whole population in a pinch. While he was unaware of the efforts until Lightning disclosed them, it is something Cloud can easily imagine. He doubts the high towers or lower levels are as inhabitable as the ground floor rooms. Maybe that is something he can help with as well.

—————☆

He meets more people as he makes his way through the city. _Leon’s wolf_ — a moniker that precedes him, but it makes him more approachable to his surprise. He mingles just enough to get his name circulating, his preferred career as a mercenary and delivery boy established. He likes to travel and wants to see more of the villages, and what better way to do so and make some munny in the process? He does not want to mooch off Squall forever. Among the residents of Radiant Garden alone, Cloud sees first-hand the strays and clans forced from their own lands into new ones and have chosen to use the situation as a boon instead of a strickening blow. The city is alive and thriving despite the picture painted of a patchwork city. It is not just shelter from bad luck — it is a new beginning.

It makes Cloud face a realization he has been sternly avoiding since his arrival: Gaia is not going to survive forever. Where will his old packmates go?

“Can’t decide if your brows furrowed together like that means trouble or not,” a voice rumbles beside him, and Cloud realizes he absently retraced his steps to the castle. Whatever project held Squall’s attention released him, apparently.

“No forest lasts forever. This one probably will because it is sustainable, that’s why everyone comes here — but…” Cloud takes a moment, letting the thought dangle in his mind for a moment longer before he adds, “if someone from Gaia’s forest came here, I wouldn’t want you to send them packing.”

The lion’s expression twists, quizzical. Cloud was — is — so scared of returning to life with his old pack. Did something change his mind? Leon’s features flatten and cool beneath burning panic. Is Cloud...going to leave?

“They deserve some place like this too, even through all the muck of my past. I’m not selfish enough to deny them the peace of mind of this place.” The wolf looks to the high ceiling, trying carefully to word his thoughts into something more understandable than the long, jumbled knot in his head. “Not afraid. Not anymore.” He is stronger than this. He will be stronger than this when the time comes. “They won’t scare me away again.” Finally Cloud’s eyes settle on Leon, blue to blue. “Lightning said I have to keep you from workin’ yourself to the bone, anyway. No one around here besides me can do that, can they?” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and he watches as Leon visibly softens.

“Guess that means you’re going to stick around with me, huh?” His tone is light, but they both know the unspoken question shadowed by the innocuous banter.

“Not leaving here, at least. Not permanently — maybe to wander or make deliveries or something.” The wolf averts his eyes, not quite ready to commit to the finer details of life with Leon.

The lion seems to accept the statement at face value. There is no rush for Cloud to make a decision regarding their arrangement. He will wait. His tail does expose his pleasure at the blond’s decision to stick around though; that means there is a chance and at the very least a future with a friend by his side.


	6. unification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lion and wolf bond a little more.

The first sight Cloud sees when his unnaturally-blue eyes open in the morning is Squall, hair mussy and fanning out on the pillow with the most serene expression to which Cloud believes he has ever borne witness. (He may be a little bit biased.) His stare must carry weight, because it isn’t long before he is peering into eyes like pools of lake blue. He thinks it would not be so terrible to drown in them.

Leon rolls over, supporting the weight of his head with an elbow against the mattress. “Something on my face?” The claws of sleep still leave traces behind in his voice, throaty and deep. 

Something just _feels_ right. How domestic they are like this, unbothered now by sleeping in the same bed, wrapped in one another’s scents. Lion and wolf, side by side. There is something there, nearly palpable, now. Cloud’s fingers tingle like he is on the edge of casting a Thundara spell, mimicking the sudden levin bolt that strikes his spine when Squall rolls over and catches the shorter blonde beneath him.

Squall reads his eyes and Cloud wonders what he continues to see—what he has seen since the day they fished a self-proclaimed feral wolf out of the sea and nursed him back to health despite his obstinance. The quirk of his Squall’s lips indicate he finds superficially the spark of fire held over coals, the reason why Cloud pointedly shifts his hips away.

“I think you’re starting to grow into the idea.” He does not have to elaborate. Cloud knows Squall is talking about a future together but lets it hang empty in the air, choosing to erase the cocky smirk with a firm press of his lips against Leon’s.

It is not like last time, fueled by desperation and uncontrollable flames of passion. Their descent is slow, firm lips sliding together slowly. Cloud savors the contact, the press of a toned body over his own. When Squall’s tongue swipes against his lips with a question, they part with an answer. It is not a quest to plunder, but one to learn and taste. 

It is not a perfect kiss—Cloud doubts there even exists such a thing, but it might as well be so. They fumble for a moment, pushing past the initial moments of odd sensations to settle back into the slow and sensual. Tongues slide against one another, Leon’s thumb settling over the lump in Cloud’s throat to ease it with slow, smooth circles.

When they part for air, evidence of their connection hangs between them as dainty as a spider web and just as easily broken when they reconnect again, relearning each curve as if it were the first touch all over again.

Cloud’s hands wander, since Leon seems perfectly content to draw circles against his neck and curl a hand in unruly blond hair, thumbing at the base of the wolf’s ears. Cloud’s shivering cannot be blamed on the temperature in the room; if anything, it is growing sweltering between them instead of cool like the stone floor beneath the bed. Squall’s shoulders are broad and taper only a bit in comparison to the sharp nip at the waist like Cloud. Muscles press back against his fingers, firm and unrelenting. He traces a path down the lion’s spine, smiling into the wet, melty kiss when Leon’s back arches along the path like a smaller breed of cat might. 

That smile freezes with a sharp intake of breath when Squall takes the opportunity to grind back down against Cloud’s thigh. Teeth nip just hard enough to keep Cloud from staying so eerily still, pale blue eyes searching his to check for signs of missteps.

Cloud yanks him back down and back into the slow burning pyre they are constructing together.

Satisfied, Leon presses a kiss to the blond wolf’s forehead, trailing down the slope of his nose and pausing at the underside of his chin to worry a little mark to blossom beneath pale skin and earn another of Cloud’s shivers. They serve as fine way markers to lead him towards learning how to pick apart his wolf and make him _howl_.

In retaliation Cloud claws angry red lines slowly down the length of Leon’s back, from the flat of his shoulder muscle to the curve of his rear and it earns him another nip and suck against white skin, right at the juncture where jaw meets neck. The wolf could not bottle up the moan if he tried, surrendering himself as a lost cause. The approving grunt in return is just as sacred an offering, the beginnings of vocal guidance for the two of them as they dance through the motions of intimacy unhurried.

Cloud’s hand falters, momentarily disoriented when Squall bites hard against his shoulder blade, hot breath panting against his skin, clumsily landing amongst the bedding and curling in the sheets when his moan shakes him. 

It is not a mating mark, a bite to be shared between lovers and renewed repeatedly, branding themselves into another on a visible swatch of skin. It is a near thing, though, a slip-up caught and corrected and honoring the contract between them.

It is really damn sexy, though, and Cloud arches off the bed when Squall flicks a comforting tongue across the impression of teeth. It does not bleed, but the wolf still feels like all the blood is rushing to the warmth there.

Before the blood abruptly plummets, of course, the reward of their foreplay now obvious when he rolls his hardening cock against whatever bit of Squall he can feel through the bedsheet.

They shift together, in sync, adjusting to fit together. One of Squall’s thighs settles between Cloud’s legs. A broad hand cradles his head, the other snakes down between them to pay attention to Squall’s own cock, Cloud mirroring the action and muffling a moan into Squall’s shoulder when the brunet hisses with temporary and ultimately unsatisfying relief. 

“Do you… Should we…?” The king lion cannot quite find the words for the question he wants to ask and Cloud spares him the embarrassment.

“Oil. Stretching. You in me, now.” 

Squall’s answering chuckle is a warm growl reverberating in his chest. “Never have to worry about you beating around the bush when it comes to things you want, huh.” His voice is warm as he peels away from Cloud to rummage around for said lubricant.

They move in sync in a way Cloud can only think feels the closest thing to perfect he is ever going to achieve with anyone. Sex before he met Squall was a means to an end, but now he feels nothing but electricity and bliss. The artful snap of Squall’s hips, the way it makes him arch and press his hips back down for more, to watch the way the brunet’s shoulders tense from under Cloud’s heavy pale lashes—it is a give and take he cannot imagine a future of growing boring or losing its passion.

He very nearly bears his neck and demands a bite.

Almost.

It is a set of teeth sinking into his shoulder again instead that snaps him out of it, Squall’s obvious self-control in threads. Knowing he drove him to that point is satisfying enough for now. The rest he will think about when he is not being fuck out of his mind. He does not want to decision to be made during a bout of good sex; both of them deserve more self-respect than that.

When they are both left dazed and panting in the sheets, that is the last thing Cloud thinks about as he dozes, utterly satisfied and warm beside his lion quickly turning into his lover.

And far, far from the warmth of the bed of a blossoming love, shadows start to melt together and take shape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sorry for my absence, and i hope to pick up on a semi-more regular schedule again now that things in my personal life have calmed down. 2020 and the beginning of 2021 have not been kind to any of us.
> 
> so here's my offering! some explicit foreplay and artsy smut. don't worry, there's more to come in the future to keep satisfying our boys. the heat is turning up on chemistry!
> 
> see you guys again soon. <3 sorry for how short this is.


End file.
